“We’re succubi,” Tiffany explained. “We’re Satan’s s*x-pets. In legend, we’re responsible for wet dreams, and live from the male juices we extract. Like it?”
“Oh god,” Bobby moaned with desperate desire as he drank in the two tormenting teases with his eyes. “You can take my male juices any time you like.” Both girls laughed at his obvious need. His c**k was fully erect and glistening.
He looked down at himself. “Oh god!” he cried again, this time with fear and shock. His c**k had evidently turned into wood —a long shaft of polished oak with a twig and a leaf hanging from it. He recoiled at the sight, driving both girls into gales of new laughter.
“Since your name is Woody, we thought you could go as Pinocchio,” laughed Susan, standing up to tower over him. He looked down with disbel
